


Not Just Yet

by seadeepy



Series: Schitt's Creek Prompt Fills [5]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Canon Compliant, Episode: s03e07 General Store, Flufftober, Introspection, Loneliness, M/M, another pair of tags that don't go together, if you wonder how I can tag it both those things u better read it to find out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:28:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27260482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seadeepy/pseuds/seadeepy
Summary: David can't sleep, so he takes a walk to the center of town.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Schitt's Creek Prompt Fills [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1903411
Comments: 11
Kudos: 46
Collections: Flufftober 2020





	Not Just Yet

**Author's Note:**

> Flufftober 2020 Prompt: Starlight.
> 
> I'm never gonna write something as beautiful as [@fairmanor's piece where David and Patrick met previously](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26879503), but this has a bit of the same flavor! It was supposed to be fluff, yet I'd say it's only comforting when you know how things will turn out for these two. It's kind of melancholy, anyway. Absolutely un-betaed and barely edited. Because it's almost midnight.

There is no moon tonight, but unfortunately David is familiar enough with Schitt's Creek by now to find his way in the darkness without it. His high-tops crunch quietly over the gravel of the motel parking lot as he makes his way towards the road, wandering towards the center of town without any clear direction. Like most nights here, it is clear and cool, a hint of frost biting at the edges of the breeze as the summery warmth of the day is lost to memory. David's cashmere sweater keeps him plenty warm enough while he walks.

He can't name exactly when he began these "nocturnal perambulations," as his mother would call them, but he knows it was some time during his job at the Blouse Barn. He'd find himself awake at the witching hour, head stuffed with anxiety and too many thoughts to put a name to. Rather than continue listening to Alexis snoring, David has taken to leaving the slumbering occupants of the motel behind and treading the streets of Schitt's Creek for hours, only returning when the sunrise begins pinking the horizon. He always sleeps instantly and soundly when he slides back under his white-and-black duvet, accepting the jibes about rising late and applying plenty of moisturizing serum to tame the purple smudges beneath his eyes.

Tonight, David has waited longer than usual before giving up on sleep. He left his phone behind on purpose, knowing from bitter experience that checking its bright screen will only increase his agitation and prolong his insomnia, but he suspects dawn is no more than half an hour away. This will be a short walk, maybe just to the site of the shuttered general store and back.

David folds his arms, exhaling noisily against the quiet. He always had a love-hate relationship with New York City, the neon-bright glamor of its nightlife simultaneously comforting him and making him feel like the loneliest person on the planet. Strangely enough, he finds himself more comfortable here, with only the cows for company. There is a delicious clarity to his thoughts that he never had in New York, enough to fill dozens of pages in his little black notebook with ideas.

David isn't truly surprised when he finds himself standing on the pavement next to the Moira's Rose's Garden 4856. He's been ending up here more and more frequently as the weeks continue, and now that council is considering his application, he's been lingering during the daytime as well. He can't quite bring himself to round the corner to the storefront. His vision of a sleek black facade and a sand-and-stone color palette for the interior would seem almost too real. He can't let himself hope that fiercely.

As David paces by the planter, he catches sight of a man across the street. By dim starlight and no moon, he can only make out that the man is stocky, several inches shorter than David. David doesn't recognize him, but that doesn't mean much. David's still trying to figure out who the fuck Gwen is and why everyone laughs when he asks about her.

The other man is dressed for a run, stretching against a telephone pole in a way that makes David suddenly warm under his cashmere sweater. He glimpses the curve of toned calves and broad shoulders, before mentally shaking himself. He needs to stop lurking in the shadows like a fucking creep. It's only David's all-black ensemble that's kept him unnoticed so far, he suspects.

David turns hastily to leave, and for a moment he thinks he hears a word of greeting drifting across the empty street between them. But he doesn't look around, choosing instead to scurry back the way he came with arms folded and shoulders hunched. Whoever the man is, David's not ready to meet him at whatever ungodly hour this is, when he hasn't had time to fix his hair or perform his nine-step skin regimen.

Later, David will recognize that silhouette when he shakes hands with a warm-eyed business consultant in a blue button-up and mid-range denim. For now, he walks alone back to the motel, dreaming of a curated selection of local products and an aesthetic all his own. Above him, the glittering stars count the minutes until two people's lives come together.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments/kudos are loved and appreciated <3


End file.
